“Are you okay?” he asked with some anxiety in his voice. Her mission with Claudia to reconnoiter the strange Sardinian town had been extremely dangerous, but critical to the operation.
Hunter was relieved to see she had made it in one piece. In fact, he couldn’t help but notice the slightly blissful look she had about her.
“There are no soldiers that we could see in the city,” she reported as Hunter led her to the side of the dusty road near the base. “No SAMs either. It appears that anyone who is able to have sex is having it — plenty of it — in that city tonight.”
It was just what Hunter wanted to hear.
Earlier in the evening, a strike force made up mostly of Australian Special Forces troops and Spanish rocket teams had helicoptered into a remote part of the island from six Norwegian frigates offshore. Hunter was the strike force leader, while Sir Neil, itching for a bit of action, had come along as the overall commander. With the twenty-five tough Aussie troops at his disposal, Hunter hoped to locate and airlift out as many Sidewinders and other weapons that he could find in the Sardinians’ ammo bunkers. Sir Neil, along with a half-dozen Spanish rocketeers, would guard the strike force’s rear from any threat, whether it be on the ground or in the air.
Hunter knew that the mission had to be done quickly. While the two women provided a diversion for any guards at the base, he and the Aussies would sweep into the weapons bunkers, locate what they needed, then radio back a special code to the six helicopters waiting nearby. The choppers were already outfitted with cargo nets. The strike force would have to drag out as many cases of weapons as they could and load them onto the chopper nets. If things went very well, Hunter thought they might be able to load up four of the six choppers. Of course, he knew there would always be unpredictable elements to contend with.
The strike force, wearing black coveralls and old Marine guard helmets they had found on the carrier, advanced cautiously up the narrow road to the front gate of the weapons-storage site. A small guardhouse stood next to the entrance, a single light burning in its window. Off in the distance, the lusty revelers back in Cagliari had begun setting off fireworks, unintentionally adding to the strike force’s cover.
Hunter motioned for the Aussies to take cover on either side of the road, then called Chloe and Claudia to the front of the column. They quickly went over their prearranged plan. Then, checking their small guns once again, the two women headed for the guardhouse.
The five soldiers inside the guardhouse were surprised when they answered the knock on their door and found Chloe and Claudia standing there. Both women had expertly made themselves look disheveled. Claudia’s toga was nearly completely torn off, and both of Chloe’s breasts were exposed. Both women were wearing their best professional smiles, which, when mixed with the smell of the alcohol, made for a powerful combination.
“Parlez-vous francais?” Chloe asked the burly man who answered the door.
“Oui, madam,” the soldier answered, a strange look coming across his face.
“Your comrades in town sent us to you,” Claudia said, snuggling up against the man. “They felt bad that you were up here missing out on all the festivities.”
“Our comrades sent you?” another of the soldiers asked, getting up from the card game the men had been playing.
While Claudia was talking to the men, Chloe was taking in the equipment the soldiers had in the guardhouse. Several rifles were leaning in the corner. An elaborate radio set was off to one side. A large pane-less window opening dominated the rear of the house, allowing a clear view of the city a mile and a half away.
“Can we come in and join you?” Chloe asked.
Hidden in the bushes twenty feet away, Hunter and Sir Neil watched the two women go into the guardhouse, the door closing behind them. Hunter turned to the leader of the Aussie troopers and gave him the thumbs-up sign.
“Go to it, Hunter,” Sir Neil said, patting him on the back. “We got your asses covered.”
With that, Hunter and the Aussie force slipped passed the guardhouse and down into the depression that contained a large underground weapons-storage bunker and several smaller ones.
Staying in the shadows and moving silently, Hunter and the troopers inched their way toward the bunkers. Once he was sure that there were no guards patrolling the inside of the facility, he gave the Aussie leader a prearranged signal. Meanwhile, off in the distance, the Sardinians were continuing their fireworks display.
The strike force began splitting up. A dozen men took up positions around the facility’s perimeter. The remaining soldiers divided into two-man teams, each headed for a small bunker. Their task was to force open the door, get inside, quickly determine what weapons were on hand for the taking, and then report back to their group leader. Hunter and two Aussies, meanwhile, would head for the main storage building that dominated the facility. He was certain that the Sardinians kept most of their Sidewinders there.
That’s when the strange feeling came over Hunter. Something wasn’t right. He could feel it. Reaching the large housing, he quickly picked the simple lock and, together with the help of the Aussies, pried the huge iron door open. Clicking his flashlight on, Hunter and the two troopers entered the bunker.
Hunter took one look and swore, “Christ!” he whispered angrily. “After all this … ”
“Well I’ll be damned,” one of the Aussie soldiers said.
The bunker was empty …
Hunter ran outside and found the Aussie group leader coming towards him.
“Turning up negative all around, major,” the Aussie leader, a man named Dundee, told him. “None of my guys have found a bloody thing.”
“Nothing here,” Hunter said, bitterness in his voice. He was mad at himself. While this certainly wasn’t the only weapons-storage site on the island, it was the one furthest from the city, and therefore, in Hunter’s mind, the easiest target. But undertaking the dangerous operation for nothing was not good military planning.
So the Sardinians were smarter than he thought. For some reason they had moved all the weapons out of the storage facility, apparently some time ago.
Quickly and quietly, the Aussies began moving their way back toward the guardhouse. Hunter was hoping that Chloe and Claudia had already been able to knock out the guards. They would have to get the girls out and make their way back to the choppers waiting two miles away.
But now he felt a second strange feeling come over him. The fireworks in the town had stopped. For the first time since they had landed on the island, there was complete silence all around them.
Hunter knew that meant trouble.
They reached the guardhouse. While Dundee went on to tell Sir Neil of the empty bunkers, Hunter and two Aussies went to retrieve Chloe and Claudia.
Hunter cautiously approached the guardhouse, only to see his worst fears had come true. The guards had not been knocked out; he could plainly see two of them walking around the sentry post. What was worse, they were carrying rifles with them.
Something had gone wrong and now Hunter knew there would have to be gunplay.
He crept up to the side of the house and peered inside. For some reason the guards hadn’t gone for the girls’ ruse. Chloe and Claudia were tied up back to back on two chairs, while the soldiers paced around them anxiously. It could only mean one thing: they had reported the girls’ presence to their superiors in the town. Hunter was sure someone was coming to investigate.
Two more Aussies joined Hunter and the others around the house and, on the count of three, they burst in. Hunter himself came through the open window, his M-16 blazing. Two more Aussies kicked in the door and sprayed the interior of the shack with bullets, while two other troopers dove towards the girls, knocking them down and covering them with their bodies.